Sea Salt and Extra Creamy
by TotemundTabu
Summary: SwissBel - Simple, healthy porn - Prompt : Chocolate - "Is there something more… sexy?" "Th…than what?" Belle rolled her eyes to the ceiling, falsely absent-minded , "Mmmh, I dunno, something among a blonde in transparent lingerie, a chocolate cake and a candlelit rendez-vous I am pretty sure should arouse you."


_**Sea Salt and Extra Creamy**_

He never saw one like her.  
She was unique.  
Not that this trait constitutes any guarantee of quality, but, in the end, it was what drew him closer and closer to her, until it was impossible for him to deny the truth.  
She didn't leave him completely cold.  
He was not indifferent anymore.  
There she was, at the other end of the room, chatting - with her quick, gentle, fascinating voice, moving her hands gently in the air, then laughing. Softly. Brightly.  
Belle was radiant, with that dazzling smile and her hair sweetly dancing every time she moved her head.  
Lili smiled, knowingly, "Big brother, are you okay?"  
Basch stuttered, starting with surprise.  
"Ye- Yeah, everything fine."  
He drank nervously another glassful of champagne.  
Francis hugged him from behind, provoking him almost an heart-attack.  
"Nice to see you are enjoying the party!"  
"I'll kill you one day or another...", he hissed.  
Lili laughed softly, then Roderich gave a sigh, mumbling "My oh my, aren't you all a little grown-up for acting like kids?"  
"It's not like I was the one acting like a kid!", Basch protested, uselessly.  
Francis stuck out his tongue, "It's my Birthday, if you don't like it, you can..."  
"...go home with the cake I baked?"  
"...obviously I was joking!"  
Roderich smiled, naughtily, "I was sure so."  
Basch groaned.  
His cousin, Francis, was one of the most famous writers in Europe, and he decided to give an huge party for his Birthday. Useless to say, the amount of guests was astonishing, like every year.  
There was people from practically every corner of the continent. The most annoying ones were clearly Gilbert and Antonio, the best-friends of the novelist, the Italian twins - one was a overly-cheerful painter and the other the human equivalent of a gangrenous leg - then Gilbert's younger brother - scary yet still probably the only sensible human being there... Over there, a sulky English man, probably one of Francis' lovers, was talking with a Elizavetha, Belle and her brother, an human wardrobe with the same scarf since 1992.  
Roderich blinked, curious, "Who are you staring at?"  
"I am not staring at anyone!"  
"Oh, sorry... - he smiled, wicked - ... who were you x-raying, then?"  
Useless to deny, so he simply lowered his head.  
Roderich was Basch's best, and only, friend since their childhood. Even more than a friend, actually.  
Somehow.  
They were like brothers, practically, even if they broke away for a little amount of time, after Roderich confessed to Basch he had a crush on him, like an huge unrequited crush, Canada-sized. Luckily, that too passed and they were able to make up.  
No hard feelings: both of them knew that Basch was light years away from Love.  
At least, it was so, until two years ago, when he realized that that girl he saw every time was the only reason he was still attending Francis' parties. Birthday, Christmas, Easter... she was always there and Basch knew it.  
He never realized before but since two years the only thing he was able to do was thinking about her. How foolish.  
She was a television chef and Basch even started to watch her TV Program: All about Chocolate. And it costed him. A lot.  
Not only because he was a fervent defender of Swiss Chocolate and watching a Belgian Pastry TV Show was a real sacrifice, but also because of how much self-control he needed to avoid impure thoughts. Failing every time, incidentally.  
But he would have spent hours to listen to her, so strange, so sweet, accent - it stained her French, but with the beauty of a cherry staining heavy cream - or looking at her tapering, tender hands, while she baked. And, dulcis in fundo, her lips.  
Those lips.  
Basch Zwingli would have died instead of admitting it, but those lips gave him his fist wet dream. Stupid late adolescence.  
He felt like a ludicrous kid.  
All at once, all of a sudden, he was so weak in his brakes, so low in his intentions.  
And all his emotions were unfettered.  
He returned to look at her.  
Those beautiful green eyes were his damned wish.  
He was drunk with desire.  
Roderich followed his glance, then smiled, mocking, dangerously, "Belle?"  
"I need no comment, Rod."  
"What about an advice?"  
"Step down from the pulpit. - Basch looked at a tray with chocolate-coated fruit, then to his sister - Want some?"  
She nodded, quietly, "White chocolate with strawberries, please."  
"I know.", he smiled.  
When he was near the fruit, he took some for Lili and looked for something for himself too. Without he were able to notice, a warm voice caught him by surprise.  
"You like sweet things..."  
He almost jumped, choking.  
"Ah, well, these are for Lili."  
Belle smiled, "I see. - she sucked slightly her bottom lip - You should taste some too, though."  
He decided it was time to flirt.  
He was Francis' cousin, come on, he was surely able to!  
"Any advice?"  
You tried, Basch.  
Veni, vidi, failed.  
She smiled, wiggly, wickedly, "Depends of how intense do you like your treats to be..."  
He backed off, swallowing, awkwardly stuttering.  
"Milk. Not, not really into... dark... stuff..."  
He felt the most complete idiot on planet earth.  
Belle gave a little laugh, like she found him terribly tender. Or juicy.  
"It's really a shame.", she replied, giving him a skewer, with an eager glance.  
Abel and Elizavetha called her back and she went away, with a strange, cryptic smile. Her lips were red like the blood Basch suddenly felt running through his veins.  
His stupid, stupid, late adolescence.  
The good thing about Francis' villa was that there was always a bed for everyone, so, after every party evening, everyone was able to just stay there, before returning home and without paying what Roderich used to call 'uselessly expensive Hotels'.  
Like every time, Basch ended up in the same room with Lili, mostly to prevent her being with someone else, but she was quite happy about it, because she knew her brother always felt slightly uneasy when sleeping alone at someone's else house.  
But that night was really worse than usually.  
He was unable to sleep, completely.  
As soon as Lili fell into Morpheus' arms, Basch went down the stairs, in the almost complete darkness of the night. Then he sit on the couch in the living room, inhaling, slowly, the good smell of fireplace, wax and food.  
He looked again at the table: forgetful of everything, Francis left still some food on it. Basch thought a little, before, but then took some.  
He was alone, after all, wasn't he?  
Nobody would have judged him.  
He took a glassful of red, strong, robust wine. Then some mango covered in milk chocolate.  
The light was dim, reddish for the only fire coming from some candles he lit.  
"As I thought."  
Basch turned. And saw her.  
There. Lingering on the doorstep.  
"You really do like sweet things."  
She was wearing an old-rose baby-doll, that left really only a ridiculously little room for imagination. Basch swallowed, feeling his throat hard and fearing something else would have been like that too soon.  
Her blonde, curly hair framed gently her face. They were slightly uncombed, like she woke up after a strange dream, but her expression was not worried, it was scorching hot.  
Basch tried with all his self-control not lower his eyes, but her perfectly round, burgeoning and brazenly exposed breasts seemed to magnetize him. It was like he fell into the Eden.  
But, instead of an apple, she had a dish with a big slice of chocolate cake and a fork in the hand.  
"What kind of woman eats chocolate cake at three in the morning?", Basch asked, nervously.  
Belle came closer, swaying smoothly her round, soft, hips.  
"A happy one."  
She was so near, Basch touched the table and knew he was no more able to beat a retreat. Belle used the fork and cut the tip of the cake, bringing it into her dark, warm mouth, the sweet paste melted.  
"Is there something more... sexy?"  
"Th...than what?"  
Belle rolled her eyes to the ceiling, falsely absent-minded , "Mmmh, I dunno, something among a blonde in transparent lingerie, a chocolate cake and a candlelit rendez-vous I am pretty sure should arouse you."  
Basch was close to say something, opened the mouth, then shut up, tried to escape from her look, but his one feel on her boobs again. he cursed mentally and nailed his eyes to the table.  
He felt so nervous and... trapped.  
He was sure he was not supposed to feel that way.  
Belle took his chin between two of her fingers, "I would be really happy if I was that one thing."  
She leant the dish on the table and came so close Basch felt his skin burning under her touch through the clothes.  
"Listen, Belle, you totally misunderstood it's not like I..."  
Her right hand slipped into Basch's pyjama trousers.  
He never felt so happy not being wearing that pink nightgown Lili sewed for him years before.  
His heart skipped an heartbeat and he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working for a little, while he felt that soft, silky hand touching him.  
Where she touched was like... incandescent.  
Suddenly his whole body was burning with both desire and confusion.  
Her fingers courted Basch's taut cock and the Swiss had to bit his lips to avoid moaning in pleasure. He felt everything becoming hot, to hot.  
When exactly did the air became like a glowing ember?  
He panted, his voice becoming deeper and shattering badly in a series of broken, warm gasps of pleasure.  
Belle seemed both entertained and flattered.  
Basch tried to call her name again to stop her, but it was so unconvincing in a few seconds his trousers were to the ground and the heat became inconceivably immense.  
Her tongue was enveloping his penis, wrapping it up. Her lips were so soft, he never found something so sweet in his whole life, the flesh seemed to melt on him, like warm honey. She took the head in the mouth, surrounding it completely.  
Belle's mouth was like fire. Hotter then Hell.  
And close to Heaven's doors.  
Her hand was still on the shaft, moving up and down terribly slowly. The warm touch was overwhelming.  
Basch arched his back, gagging. He held back a cry, as she started to move her hand faster.  
The blond boy felt like he was reaching his boiling point.  
Belle stopped a second to lick the head, determined to give her attention to everything; while still caressing passionately the shaft, she started to kiss Basch's testicles, slowly, gently, then her red-hot, scorching tongue lightly tasted his inner thighs, warmly biting his soft skin.  
A shiver run through his spine, melting in a choked roar as the girl licked between the anus and the bollocks. He was completely in her control.  
Belle smiled, naughtily  
When she heard Basch's voice becoming darkly uncurbed and unbridled, weak with thrills, she returned to the head, greedily.  
The Swiss barely noticed he put his fingers in Belle hair, pushing her closer, asking to take it deeper. Then he started to thrust, more and more, with hoarse moans overlapping and thronging to the air.  
He came, with a low, profound and wet voice.  
Belle cleaned her lips with the index finger, then licking it.  
"Nice flavour."  
He gasped, stammering something, but Belle chuckled.  
"Well, was it good?", asked boldly.  
"I..."  
"Would you mind to... - she stood up, then kissed him softly on the neck - ...continue somewhere more comfortable?"  
Basch's mind was on black out.  
Okay, he knew what to do. Roughly.  
And she seemed so... confident. Damn confident. And beautiful. And.  
Why did he never listened to Roderich's advice? Or Francis'. Or Anyone-else's. Or watched seriously a porn.  
He and his damn prude attitude.  
Belle smirked, "I won't eat you, you know."  
Then she led him to the couch.  
"Take this off.", she whispered, undressing him completely and throwing the shirt away.  
Unexpectedly, Basch decided to - at least try to - take control, as she sat down, he mumbled something confused and scribbled.  
"Should I return the favour?"  
Belle raised an eyebrow, perplexed and amused.  
"If you want to."  
"I can try."  
The Belgian girl softened up in a gentle laugh, drew him close to her, kissing him passionately. She tasted like chocolate. And he too.  
As their breathing melted, Basch felt his lower half warming up again. He untied the little ribbon of Belle's baby-doll - thanking god it was not a bra - and, as it opened, he skipped an heartbeat.  
Belle's breasts were firm, but smooth to the touch. Almost mellow.  
He decided to go on with a little method, and tried nervously to not do anything too...  
"Are you blushing?"  
He hid his face and Belle smiled again, kissing him, sucking slowly his bottom lip, and making him drowning in her sugary scent.  
Then she whispered on his lips, "Just go with the tide."  
"I am not nervous.", Basch lied.  
Belle smiled, "It would be really silly for you to be."  
Without knowing if she was trying to encourage him or just sincere, the Swiss nodded and headed to the pink, petite, velvet nipples. He started to lick them, slowly, then, when he felt Belle moving, shivering under his touch, he bit them, gently, then with a strange fervour.  
A feverish thrill in his flesh.  
He bit the throbbing, sweetly curved, mounds. Ardently tasting Belle's warm, tingling skin.  
Her perfume was paradisiac.  
The texture of her body was soft, heavenly tender. She was so different from everything. Going down, drawing winding, sinuous traits with his tongue on her stomach, Basch placed himself between her legs, kneeling down. Belle moaned, as soon as she felt the blond man taking off her panties, letting them fall on the parquet.  
The light of the candles was too low for guiding Basch, so he had to follow his instinct and his hunger.  
He came as close as possible, licking gently, with timorous craving. Belle tensed herself, contracting.  
Basch sank his tongue into the sweet wet cavern, proceeding to drink her juice. It was bitter, almost salty.  
And perfect.  
He felt like he was painting with the pleasure that was running through his veins.  
The soft, moist flesh of Belle was delicate like a flower but, at every voluptuous movement of his tongue, Basch felt stronger and stronger the desire of devouring it. He seized her tights, bringing her closer, going deeper.  
Then higher, as he felt her lover to wriggling in pleasure.  
"...here?", he whispered. His voice musky and hoarse for the heat he felt inside.  
The Belgian nodded, shivering.  
Tasting her sweetness, like he came from centuries of famine and unrequited desire, Basch felt completely overwhelmed by a blissful corruption.  
Kissing, licking and nibbling the greedy softness, he sank his fingers into Belle's legs, as she twirled with lust. His tongue tasted the scented, rosy clit, hidden in the folds of the labia. Basch swirled his tongue again, in circles, brushing then on the peak and then around the eager slit.  
She squirmed, quivering, close to let go a wet, burning scream.  
Belle moaned, biting her own hand, holding back everything she wanted to say, while, ever so yearning before, Basch lightly sucked her pulsating core.  
Her hips shook weakly, feverishly, under his touch, and with a deep, velvet shriek of delight, she fell into pleasure, arching and tightening.  
Basch felt something, incredibly good, in his mouth.  
Bitter and yet sweetish, almost aphrodisiac.  
Thick, hot, addicting.  
Lavish with attention, he slipped into her with his tongue, then again on the clit, eating all her juice.  
Belle let a whisper coming out from her mouth, "Well... that's what I call talent."  
Basch avoided to look her in those green, burning, eyes.  
She pulled him again against her lips, asking for a kiss.  
Their heart missed for a moment.  
She smiled, feeling his hesitant, wavering reaction. Then he smiled again, seeing her doing it.  
Belle had a glance at Basch's manhood, already slowly rising again.  
"I have an idea for your sweet tooth."  
She stood up, going away for a moment, Basch seemed bewildered, but the girl laughed, candidly glowing, "It's gonna worth it."  
He nodded, swallowing, awkwardly.  
He overheard a strange noise, like something opening in another room, then Belle was again in the room, with what seemed a whipped cream spray can, and a naughty smirk on those red, full lips.  
Basch raised an eyebrow, confused.  
"Why you...?"  
"Chocolate whipped cream. - she winked - But this is our dirty little secret. A chef is not supposed to use this commercial stuff."  
Basch swallowed.  
He was not not sure if that was reality or a really vivid wet dream. His expression was slightly embarrassed and pensive.  
She laughed a little, like she was able to read his mind, "You are really cute."  
"I am not."  
"Very. - she came closer - Very. - pushed him against the couch - Very. Cute."  
She shook a little the can, then, after some gentle touches and licks to make him completely erect, she topped Basch's phallus with a big, generous squirt of whipped cream.  
It was so cold, a shiver, more like a beautiful electric shock, shook him out.  
But the icy sensation was not meant to last long: without even giving him time to realize it, Belle was licking him again, from the shaft to the turgid head, biting gently where the skin was more soft, wrapping it with her tongue.  
This time, Basch was really grateful for being sat on the sofa and not standing up, because he was really sure his knees would have betrayed him soon. The glances Belle gave him were like pure heat: he felt like he lost every control and was, once again, entirely in her hands.  
And it felt beautiful.  
Utterly beautiful.  
It was like drowning in a fire.  
Then, she stopped, came near him and sprayed other cream on his erection. She placed her hands around Basch's neck, and murmured, "Place yours on my waist."  
He did, enraptured.  
Slowly, she slid, carefully, on his penis. With an abrupt, unannounced, stroke, Basch penetrated her completely.  
Inside her was like her mouth: soft, terribly hot, incredibly overwhelming. Basch felt like he was melting.  
Belle flung back her head, biting her bottom lip.  
The Swiss kept on moving, shaking her, thrusting deeper and deeper at every jerk.  
As he became quick, Belle hold onto his shoulder, practically falling against his chest.  
"Are you all right..?"  
"If you dare to stop now, I'll kill you."  
Basch took her face in his hand and kissed her.  
Roughly digging into her wetness, he deepened the kiss, reaching her tongue. He brought one of his hands behind her nape.  
He didn't want her to go away.  
He would have been happy even dying in exactly that moment.  
Belle moaned, directly in her lover's mouth, trying to call his name, while inside her everything started to feel like burning. She separated from his lips, returning to breathe, and, with a smirk, squirted a little of chocolate whipped cream in his mouth.  
He smiled, swallowing it and licking his lips.  
He felt Belle's walls getting tighter and hotter and sped up his thrusts, getting rougher and rougher every time  
She clenched her body, writhing, lustful, feeling the warmth everywhere.  
It was driving her crazy.  
Basch's voice was tear in many ragged, harsh, fast gasps. His heart was beating sharply, almost hurting, his mind feeling light. He held her hips, making her close to his, moving restlessly, feeling like he was completely sinking in her tightness.  
Still riding on Basch's cock, Belle returned to kiss him, then, holding onto him.  
Sensing they were both close to the climax, took again the spray can and plunged the tip into the man's ass. Basch moaned, thrusting even deeper, slamming.  
When she squirted the cream into him, the ice thrill jolted him.  
With a squirmy wail, he came into Belle, who, shuddering with pleasure and satisfaction, stiffened in a mind blowing ecstasy.  
She lapsed into his arms, trembling slightly.  
Belle felt her voice shattered, as she murmured, "You are surely worth-waiting for."  
Basch's eyes widened.  
"I didn't know..."  
"You are a little dense."  
She moved, with difficulty, from him, searching on the floor for her panties or, at least, his jacket, when she found it, she wore it, appropriating it.  
Basch worried, "Where are you...?"  
Was she going away?  
Belle took again her chocolate cake from the table and looked into his eyes.  
"I didn't finish it.", she replied, with already a piece of chocolate ganache in her mouth.  
Then she pattered again to him, with two forks, smiling, and sat near him.  
The Swiss smiled, shyly, as Belle spoon-fed him.  
"I think I changed my mind about Swiss chocolate, you know?", she whispered, warmly, in his ear.  
Basch almost strangled himself.


End file.
